Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

As the temperature soared, the meteorological office issued a red alert.

The temperature had hovered around 95 degrees Fahrenheit for a week, pushing Owen's research to the brink of a breakthrough after relentless calculation and verification.

Finally catching a break, Owen was exhausted and trudged to his seventh-floor apartment, looking forward to a good night's sleep to recharge. However, a sudden noise from across the hallway halted his steps.

Pausing, he turned and knocked on the door opposite his. "Roseanne, are you in there?"

There was no response. Owen knocked again, but still nothing.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

Hesitating for a second and contemplating whether to call for help, he heard the door unlocking. Roseanne peeked out, leaving the door just ajar.

"What's up?" Her demeanor was casual as if the knock had merely interrupted her day, her voice as calm as ever, betraying no sign of distress.

Yet, Owen couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off, like a rose wilting without water.

He was silent for a moment under Roseanne's puzzled gaze.

Suddenly, he spoke, "You mentioned you worked on a paper last time. How's it going?"

Roseanne replied, "I submitted it two weeks ago. I've been reviewing and waiting for the results for two months now."

Owen adjusted his glasses. "I have a paper, a work in progress. Would you be interested in taking a look?"

Roseanne was surprised.

Twenty minutes later, in Owen's apartment, sitting on the couch, Roseanne scanned the paper in her hands, her eyes lighting up.

Focusing on biological sequences and discussing initial values in biological changes, Owen's paper wasn't breaking new ground topic-wise but approached the subject from a novel angle. The verification methods and conclusions were all innovative. But innovation meant it required substantial, compelling data support.

Roseanne asked Owen, "Is this your paper?"

Owen nodded. "I started it in my sophomore year."

Roseanne felt a mix of emotions.

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No wonder the bioinformatics professors were still upset about Owen switching from biology to physics years later. It was like he was made for it, cranking out top-notch work even as a sophomore.

Roseanne kept asking, "Why didn't you publish it?"

"I thought could perfect it. Look. These two sections lack solid experimental data to back the. conclusions. After switching my major, physics consumed al my time, leaving none to complete it."

A hint of regret flashed in his eyes.

Roseanne pondered. "Then why show it to me today?"

"Ms. Payne sent me your undergraduate paper recently, asking if I could suggest a new topic."

"I noticed you've tackled similar subjects before," he pointed at the paper in Roseanne's hands. "So, I'm asking, are you still interested in continuing this line of work?"

A spark ignited in Roseanne. The deeply buried passion seemed on the verge of resurfacing. She hadn't set foot in a lab since graduation.

Roseanne wasn't sure. "Can I?"

Though unpracticed for a while, the procedures were in her memory.

Yet, fear lingered, doubting if she could still adapt to the lab work as before.

"As long as you want to, there's no issue," Owen reassured. "Next October, the Academy of Sciences will form a research group, open even to graduate students, focusing on genetic sequences. You'll have the chance to apply once you start if you get into grad school this year."

Led by several academicians in General Biology, the group had gotten the green light last year, still under the radar to the outside world but well-known within Kingswell University.